Birds Quotes
No.	Quotation	Last Name	First Name
1	Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these? Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught The dialect they speak, where melodies Alone are the interpreters of thought? Whose household words are songs in many keys, Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught!	Longfellow	Henry Wadsworth
2	I shall not ask Jean Jaques Rousseau If birds confabulate or no. 'T is clear that they were always able To hold discourse--at least in fable.	Cowper	William
3	The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake; The mellow bullfinch answers from the grove: Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze Poured out profusely, silent. Joined to these, Innumerous songsters, in the freshening shade Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw, And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone, Aid the full concert: while the stock-dove breathes A melancholy murmur through the whole.	Thomson	James
4	Whither away, Bluebird, Whither away? The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky Thou still canst find the color of thy wing, The hue of May. Warbler, why speed thy southern flight? ah, why, Thou too, whose song first told us of the Spring? Whither away?	Stedman	Edmund
5	The crack-brained bobolink courts his crazy mate, Poised on a bulrush tipsy with his weight.	Holmes	Oliver
6	The cook, that is the trumpet to the morn. Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat A wake the god of day.	Shakespeare	William
7	Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, Thy home is high in heaven, Where wide the storms their banners fling. And the tempest clouds are driven.	Percival	James
8	Most musical, most melancholy" bird! A melancholy bird! Oh! idle thought! In nature there is nothing melancholy.	Coleridge	Samuel
9	Then from the neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers, Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen.	Longfellow	Henry Wadsworth
10	What bird so sings, yet so does wail? O, 'tis the ravished nightingale-- Jug, jug, jug, jug--tereu--she cries, And still her woes at midnight rise. Brave prick-song! who is't now we hear? None but the lark so shrill and clear, Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings. Hark, hark! but what a pretty note, Poor Robin-redbreast tunes his throat; Hark, how the jolly cuckoos sing "Cuckoo!" to welcome in the spring.	Lyly	John

Result Page : 1 2

19 quotations on Birds

Search Now: